Conversations with lions and wolves
by Sakurau121
Summary: A short story before 8x05 comes out, about Tyrion and Sansa in the aftermath of 'the Last War'. They are in a pickle but never underestimate a disgraced daughter and a demon monkey...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sansa lifted her head as she heard a bell tolling in the distance. It was a mournful sound and spoke ominously, she thought, of what was to come.

She listened carefully as her carriage made its way down the King's Road. They were close, very close. The light breezing sound of the trees had disappeared, she could hear the uneven, hard ground beneath the wheels.

And it was quiet. Too quiet.

Lifting her hand, Sansa slowly pulled away the curtain to look outside, but she was quickly interrupted by Brienne. Normally the said knight would be riding on her horse beside Sansa, but upon hearing the news of what had transpired down in King's Landing, Brienne had thought it wiser to stay closer to the Lady of Winterfell.

"I would not advise that, my lady," she said as she sat opposite Sansa, her words soft but direct. "We do not know exactly what we are walking into."

"We shouldn't have come here," said Sansa curtly in response, taking one look anyway outside, before closing the grey curtains as instructed. The road was deserted, there were no people. Where were the people?

"The war has finished Lady Sansa, and therefore your presence is needed. The council must deliberate on how to move forward."

Sansa shook her head, refusing to look at Brienne. She heard the doubt in her voice, the lack of certainty. It was denial, and it wasn't the first time she had heard it before in these past few weeks.

"The letter from Jon," she muttered as the cogs continued to turn in her mind. "It didn't sound like him. Something is wrong. If rumours are to be believed-"

"All the more reason to be here then," said Brienne, trying to reassure her best she could. "We may see the truth of the matter, fully understand what transpired here."

"That is what I am afraid of," said Sansa, and for the first time perhaps since that terrible night, the so-called 'Long Night' as the maesters had apparently decided to call it, Sansa Stark felt truly afraid. She heard too, the sadness in Brienne's voice. Jon's letter said kept to the point, but it had stated the Lannister twins had both been killed in the battle.

But all was not as it seemed. And Sansa had learnt from the best that you ought never to be in a situation where you cannot foresee its conclusion.

Turning away from her most trusted knight, Sansa tried to look through the curtain as the sunlight spilled through the seams. Her mind wandered back to her final conversation with Bran.

She was here now, in this god-forsaken wagon, partially because she felt her brother had wanted her to go.

"Jon is alone in King's Landing," he had said, when she had protested against the idea. "It is in ruins. The dragons are gone. He asked for you because he needs you."

"Why would he need me now? The war is over, and he is Warden of the North, not me!"

Bran had simply continued to look at her, in his way, but she saw in his eyes the truth which she herself had been trying to dismiss. A truth she had been fighting against since a certain Lannister had spelled it out loud to her, someone whose words she could not simply ignore.

"You are the Lady of Winterfell," said Brienne, bringing Sansa back to the present, where she and her loyal servant were sitting in a rocking carriage on their way to the capital. "You have a part to play my lady, in my humble opinion, in the ensuing discussions."

Sansa felt a tremor in her stomach as she looked back at Brienne. Tyrion Lannister had said something similar, something even more potentially blasphemous.

"I am here for Jon, nothing else," said Sansa in a low voice, looking down once more. "He is the Warden of the North and needs my support, as his letter instructed."

She could feel Brienne's frustration spilling towards her, but Sansa ignored it and turned away. She could only voice the concern which she knew everyone had felt, nothing more.

The fear was gnawing at her insides, but Sansa knew she could not outthink this. Even Littlefinger, if he were here, would not be able to, she was certain.

There was nothing more she could do. Even if both she and Brienne knew they were not going to like what they were going to see as they approached King's Landing, they could not stop what had already happened, nor its consequences.

The sombre atmosphere in the carriage was abruptly interrupted by a knocking at the side of the carriage door. Despite herself, Sansa flinched but Brienne gave her a curt nod of reassurance.

"It is merely one of the guards, my lady," she said, before opening the wooden side window swiftly. "What is it?"

"A message for Lady Sansa," said the rider, his voice dry, from not stopping for hours. "It came just now, by raven."

Soundlessly Brienne received the said scroll and gave it directly to Sansa, who in turn took it but with a weary look in her eye. She saw immediately the Stark sigil, and wondered which of her two brothers had sent her this message.

Breaking the seal hastily, Sansa unravelled the parchment and read.

Brienne, for her part, sat anxiously, though she tried not to show it, as she watched the Stark child read the contents of the message. Watching her these past few weeks, the newly appointed knight had felt pride in seeing the Lady of Winterfell flourish. Despite the stilted words she had said, Brienne had never wished Sansa to return to the place which had brought her so much misery. If she had her way, Brienne would have been happy to stay in Winterfell and protect her, or better yet, take her away, to some far-away place where no harm would ever come to them.

But Ser Brienne understood duty, and she saw the astute grace and honour overflowing in Sansa, the same sense of duty which she herself had. Though Sansa Stark would never admit it, Brienne knew the lady was the only one who could truly protect the North; she was here, not just for her brother, but for the people in the realm as well. She knew everyone in Winterfell saw it too, saw she was born to lead, truly lead, but since none wished to scare her, they wouldn't say as much. Brienne almost smiled. For the knight, in her own private mind, she saw that as the markings of a true leader; one who could not see their true worth. Something she shared with her brother. Her brother…. He would need all the support he could get in these uncertain times. And they were uncertain times indeed.

"My lady?" said Brienne, as Sansa finally looked up, and for once, she was truly surprised by the look on the girl's face.

"It seems the Dragon Queen has been putting members of Cersei's council on trial," began Sansa, her voice not as steady as it usually was. "Her maester, Qyburn, is dead. And…"

Brienne blinked. She had never heard Sansa hesitate before.

"And Tyrion Lannister is to be put on trial for his crimes, which, Jon writes, we will be asked to partake in."

"What crimes?" uttered Brienne, as she felt the carriage begin to lose speed.

"Treason," said Sansa in response, her voice hollow. "He attempted to save his siblings by helping them escape during the ensuing battle."

Brienne said nothing as the carriage came to a halt. They had arrived and neither of them wanted to step outside.

"My lady, before we leave, I must say to you…"

Sansa looked sharply towards her most trusted knight.

"Be cautious, my lady," said Brienne. "It is not my place to advise you, I am aware, but I have lived long enough by now to know corruption when I see it. You are valuable to those in the North. They need you. You might be all they have now. Please don't forget that."

If they had been in Winterfell, the eldest Stark daughter might have criticized Brienne for her words, but she understood the knight was not cautioning her because she felt Sansa was underprepared. Sansa Stark needed these words now, for she knew she was about to enter the dragon's den, a place she feared she might not come out of.

Tyrion…. Were Jon's words true? Was it really down to his actions? Or was it all a trap? Was she about to be put on trial, for revealing Jon's true heritage to her past husband?

Had she sent Tyrion to his death because of her actions?

Sansa looked up towards Brienne, knew this was the last time they would truly have a moment of peace and privacy.

"I never forget," said Sansa quietly, giving Brienne a small smile before rising from her seat and turning to leave the carriage.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Hopefully another chapter should come before Sunday's episode. Again, this is all leading to Sansa and Tyrion's meeting (which is the point of this short fic, very rough, sorry)!

Chapter 2

They were waiting for _her_, of course.

The sun was blazing down on them, but it was not a source of comfort. It felt strange, and yet, was supposed to make sense. After all, they had defeated the Night King. But that felt like an age ago, almost a separate world.

When Sansa had stepped out of her carriage, she had understood immediately why the men in her family had avoided the capital when it was ruled by those of fire and blood. It could have only been a few weeks at most since the fall of the Lannisters, but this was no longer the same city Sansa had run away from. It was definitely no longer that of Robert Baratheon. Something was different but familiar about it, yet the Lady of Winterfell, so very far from home, again, could not put her finger on what that was.

Sitting here now in the Dragon Pit did not help matters.

Looking slowly edgewise, Sansa got a good look at those who now made up Daenerys Targaryen's council without seeming conspicuous. It was a small number, but notably there were some absences. Greyworm was here of course, apparently the last true loyal servant to the Dragon Queen, as well as others from Dorne and the Iron Islands. Ser Davos was here too, but Sansa felt the lack of Varys, one of Daenerys' top advisors, acutely.

Up North, they had been informed of his treachery and that he had been subsequently executed. Despite trying to dismiss it, Sansa knew she was part of it. Had Varys said anything to reveal her with his parting words? For what reason would he have to lie at that point?

_Everyone is your enemy. Everyone is your friend…. _

Varys may not have fought for chaos, but he had no loyalty towards Sansa. It was possible the Dragon Queen already knew where he had got his information and had simply summoned a lone wolf here to be tried with the last of the lions.

Sansa switched her line of sight and directed it towards the knight sitting next to her. Members of the Vale had accompanied her also, but Brienne had remained at her side up until now.

For how long though, thought Sansa darkly. And where was Jon, the reason she was here? The Lady of Winterfell took one last look around. At least Arya was not here, that was one small comfort. She had heard nothing of her sister since she had left Winterfell, vowing to strike Cersei Lannister off her list. It wasn't even clear in Jon's message as to the manner of the late Queen's passing.

At long last, Sansa and quickly all the others heard the sound of footsteps. A shift proceeded to happen and everyone seemed to be bracing themselves.

When the Dragon Queen finally appeared, Sansa nearly gave away what she felt inside upon seeing her. The collected and cool Targaryen ruler had been replaced with someone much wilder, with her hair loose, billowing in the wind furiously. Her face was murderous, as if she had just walked away from some other conflict, her eyes glinting green like wildfire. Sansa almost felt a little guilt in seeing her in such a dishevelled state.

But then the daughter of Ned Stark remembered the false smile this Queen had given her, the way it had slid off her face when Sansa had spoken of the North. She remembered the burnt corpses they had had to pass through King's Landing in order to get to this Dragon Pit. King's Landing was no longer merely a place of power. It was an endless graveyard of smoke and the inexplicable. The people that remained had stared at them as they walked up the steps to the pit, and they had looked more than simply frightened. In their ragged clothes, Sansa saw a hollowness there which she immediately recognized. She herself had worn such a gaze for a long time, a result of the world you had once known being torn asunder, for apparently no reason at all. All they saw now were ghosts. Ghosts of what once was and what will never be. They didn't say a single word as Sansa passed by them. She reminded of Brienne's words.

_You may be all they have left. _

What choice did she have? Even if this all led to her death, she wanted to know she had done her best. Refusing Daenerys' call would only prolong the inevitable.

"You stand here accused of treason against your Queen."

When he had appeared, Sansa did not know, for her mind had been somewhere else as she had sat looking on at Daenerys Targaryen, who had not offered her a single glance as she went to sit in the middle of the council. Jon was still nowhere to be seen.

Her former husband was in chains, standing in the middle of the open space next to Grey Worm, who stood tall with his eyes forward. The same could not be said of Tyrion Lannister. His head was slumped forward. He was staring at the floor. Sansa knew, without looking twice, he had been imprisoned for a while now. His hair was so matted, that he could hardly be recognized as one who possessed that famous Lannister gold hair. This was clearly not the first trial he had been subjected to, but it seemed he had lost the will to fight now.

An image flashed in Sansa's mind, that of the night in the crypts, when they had taken one last long look at each other. They had both believed it to be the end, but despite that, Sansa Stark had seen the courage in his eyes, the will, even then, to at least try.

Here he stood, but Sansa did not recognize him. And that scared her. More than even the Dragon Queen.

"This is not your first trial, is it?" continued the ruler in question, her voice brittle and unyielding. "You were reported as saying at your trial for Joffrey's murder, that you wished you had let Stannis kill all the people here. That you had wished you had enough poison for them all, so you could watch them swallow it."

Sansa turned her attentions swiftly towards the others in the council, but they sat with grim expressions on their faces, which only indicated to her that in this case, the Dragon Queen was correct.

"You regretted saving them," she said simply, as if this were a truth of little importance. "That they were not worth saving. Tell me, why did Varys give his life for something which you, yourself, admitted as being worthless?"

Sansa blinked. To think that Tyrion had ever spoken in such a way made her almost shiver. Yes, the people of the realm were not saints, but surely, he had not meant it…

"May I speak?"

Everyone took in a collective breath and the Lady of Winterfell watched with baited breath as the last of the lions finally lifted his head. She should have anticipated of course to see the unexpected there. It almost made her smile.

"That was before I met you," said Tyrion Lannister gently, his gaze kind and beseeching. There was not a trace of bitterness in his eyes but Sansa saw resilience directed towards the Queen of the realms.

"I had lost everything," he continued, his gaze focused solely on Daenerys. "I had nothing, nothing to live for anyway. I had all but given up. But then, I saw you. When we first met, you spoke about breaking the wheel, riding the world of tyrants. Being something different, something this realm needed, to stop it from caving in on itself. You gave me hope, and I hadn't had that in a very long time."

He paused and turned, with difficulty of course due to his chains, towards Sansa's direction. Unintentionally, it would turn out, for when he looked towards her, he froze, his eyes widening in horror.

Sansa could do nothing of course but merely look back, try to convey something of encouragement. But then she saw something shift in Tyrion as he blinked and turned away. His mouth twisted into a thin line. It took her a moment but then Sansa realized what it was. Anger.

"When you first met Jon Snow, you told him, you told all of us, that as a child, people hunted you down, to assassinate you, even as a baby girl merely in her crib. My sister was terrible ruler, she never had any right to sit on that throne, but her baby…"

A ripple drifted swiftly through the council, it was hard to dismiss. Tyrion got the reaction he had been hoping for.

"As your former advisor, I must tell you," he began again, taking steps forward towards Daenerys, which Grey Worm immediately moved against. "All those years ago, a Targaryen baby, the last hope, hunted down… But you were just a baby, an innocent. My sister's child was also an innocent. So, tell me, what exactly does that make you?"

Everyone remained silent, including the Dragon Queen but Sansa felt the unease beginning to multiply in effect. The breeze picked up again, and the lone wolf took the chance to observe Tyrion. His face was haggard, like he hadn't slept in days, but his piercing eyes remained fixed on Daenerys.

Finally, the Dragon Queen spoke.

"I am not my father-"

"I'm not talking about your father!"

Tyrion's sudden outburst sent a ripple effect everywhere, and everyone shifted in their seats, flinching at his rough tongue and what his words implied.

Well, nearly everyone.

Sansa sat still, like her ancestors in the crypts of Winterfell, her gaze steady as she looked on at Tyrion. He must have noticed her lack of movement, for he shifted his eyes towards her and looked up hesitantly. This time however, he did not look away, and he must have recognized the lack of surprise she displayed, for his gaze darkened and he seemed to regain some of his resolve.

_Everything that happens will be something you have seen before. _

Sansa had learnt a hard lesson. It was clear Tyrion had learnt this too at some point.

"Daenerys Targaryen," he spoke again, cutting through the turmoil as he stood a little straighter and looked at the Dragon Queen once more, "the one name of significance, in my book, is your title as the breaker of chains... Tell me, you wish to rid this world of tyrants, but how are you different from Robert Baratheon? Is it really all just down to a name?"

Even Sansa felt her hands tighten. He had once warned her against provoking Daenerys, but then why was he doing so now?

"How dare you," said Daenerys quietly, but her voice was filled with more than simple contempt. It was rage. "I am reclaiming my throne, not stealing it like him-"

"I understand, this is war," said Tyrion, interjecting again. "But you, and the children of your late brother, Rhaegar Targaryen, were victims of Robert's Rebellion. There are unnecessary victims now as a result of _your_ war- you cannot reverse it! I only did what I believed was right. Her baby did not deserve to die, can't we at least agree on that?"

Sansa turned to look at Daenerys, and she noticed that several of the other lords did so as well. He had a point.

While news was scarce, it made little difference whether it was her sister Arya, who had managed to kill Cersei in the end. Daenerys still set fire to the red keep, she had made that decision, knowing there were other people inside as well Cersei. Her sister was still missing, maybe even dead, because of the amount of dragon fire that spread throughout the castle. There were very little survivors.

"You make an interesting point," said Daenerys, ignoring the enquiring looks thrown her way. "You are not simply here to be tried for your attempt at smuggling your sister out of King's Landing by releasing Jaime Lannister from his cell. Varys refused to give me a name right till the end, I think he thought it would help prolong the inevitable. Jon is not responsible, I know this, but you… I am convinced it was you who told Varys about Jon's true lineage, that he was a son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Is this correct?"

Sansa looked back towards Tyrion. She knew he was purposefully not looking at her. He was toying with a decision, whether to say nothing or the truth. At this point, given everything that had happened, Sansa would not be surprised if he simply chose to tell all. She could hardly blame him. She was the reason that he and Varys become suspect after all.

"Yes."

It took a while, but his begrudging response was what Sansa had expected. Still, she felt something plummet in her stomach. So, this had been the Dragon Queen's true purpose. For once, Sansa was not happy to have been correct in her suspicions.

"Why?" said Daenerys, her voice sharp.

"Because as your advisors, we had a right to know," said Tyrion, his voice surprisingly still with purpose as he stepped up once more. "I protested against him, I warned him to not turn his back against you-"

"Out of fear, not loyalty!" thundered Daenerys, and for the first time, Sansa heard true pain in her voice.

"I still believed in you and that is the honest truth!" said Tyrion, his voice truly filled with sadness. "I wanted to stand by you as your Hand, watch you transform this realm into what it could be!"

Daenerys shook her head and looked away from him, but Sansa saw the denial. She was in conflict, wanting to believe Tyrion and yet not quite being able to trust his words. The Dragon opened her mouth to respond but then her eyes landed on Sansa, and the Lady of Winterfell could do nothing but stare back, trying to close every door in the process.

But she was too late. Daenerys' eyes narrowed and her eyes grew cold as they switched back to Tyrion. All empathy had been swiftly swept away.

"Somebody told you," she began, her voice collected and deceptively calm. "There is no way you could have found out, so few knew. So, either Jon is a liar and told you himself, which I don't believe he is capable of, or someone else told you. There is no need."

The Dragon Queen lifted her hand as Tyrion attempted to speak, silencing him. His one source of power would not help him now and Sansa knew it.

"I know Jon told his sisters. I understand, he is not a liar, he hates dishonesty. I can forgive him for telling his sisters, there are his family. But you are not a Stark, you are not part of their family, and yet someone told you."

Tyrion continued to ignore Sansa's gaze, instead looking straight at the ground.

"I knew none of that," he muttered, his voice quiet. "Only what Varys told me. He tried to convince me that Jon was a better option for the realm but I dismissed him. That is all. He has always been fighting for 'the realm' as he called it. He never cared for anything else and that is a point he made abundantly clear to you from the very beginning. I stood by your side, I had faith. But I told you once, when you thought of sentencing Ser Jorah Mor-"

"Don't speak his name!"

Daenerys' voice echoed hauntingly across the pit and Sansa felt a chill run down her spine.

And yet.

Tyrion spoke, despite the danger he must have known he was putting himself in.

"When you suggested sentencing him to die, do you remember what I said?"

His voice was warm, the tone one Sansa recognized because he often spoke to her this way.

Daenerys remained stoically silent.

"A ruler who kills those devoted to her, is not a ruler who inspires devotion," said Tyrion, quoting himself. "You are going to need to inspire devotion, a lot of it, if you are ever going to rule across the narrow sea."

"Varys was not devoted to me," retorted Daenerys, unaffected by his words. "You are not either-"

"Because you burnt those who could have been!" said Tyrion, his voice rising again, but not in anger but rather disappointment. "You did not inspire, you _destroyed_! You destroyed the devotion I held for you!"

Sansa felt Brienne shifted uneasily beside her and knew she heard it too. Unlike Varys, Tyrion really had believed in Daenerys, just as he had told Sansa. He was a good man.

But good men, just like Sansa's father, did not last long in this realm. Sansa had to do something, surely she could-

Of course. As she watched Tyrion look at Daenerys with a beseeching look in his eyes, Sansa realized what he was doing. He was taking all the attention and putting it on himself, so that it would not be inevitably directed towards her.

He was trying to protect her.

Again.

Sansa looked down at her gloved hands and saw they were shaking.

"I know what you are trying to do Tyrion," said the Dragon Queen, and she almost sounded like she pitied him, "but it is meaningless. I know Sansa Stark was the one who told you the truth about Aegon Targaryen. Isn't that right, Lady of Winterfell?"

Sansa closed her eyes and took one deep breath before lifting her head and looking straight at Tyrion, who was pleading with his eyes.

_Don't. _

"Yes, I did tell him."

Her voice ringed deeper than all the others, and Brienne of Tarth, along with everyone else, looked upon her in astonishment as she stood up and turned to face the Dragon Queen.

"I am the true source of all this," said Sansa, and she was surprised by how calm she sounded, almost disinterested. "I told Tyrion, knowing he would tell Varys. I used him as a pawn to make sure news of Jon's true lineage would spread. If there is anyone who should be on trial for trying to usurp you, it should be me, not him."

Daenerys smiled, finally, it seemed, content with how the proceeding were going.

"I accept your confession," she said, standing up as well. "I appreciate honesty."

Sansa held her breath.

"But Tyrion is not an idiot," continued the Dragon Queen, her subtle smile dropping and deadness in her eyes returning. "You were both conspirators in this case. You may have used him, but understood the consequences of leaking such information. As you broke your word to Jon, it is fair you will receive a harsher sentencing. Grey Worm!"

The man in question stepped up, pulling Tyrion along with him, who looked towards Sansa incredulously, as if he could not believe what she had just done.

"Take them away and put them in the cells under this pit. We will deliberate now what will be done, and their sentence will be carried in at dawn."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: If I had more time, I would think this through a bit more, but this had to be published TODAY so apologies! In this scenario, Tyrion told Varys, but during the battle, while he was saving Jaime and therefore Cersei, Varys was executed because Dany found out he knew about Jon. Dany had her suspicions and asking Jon, who confirmed he told his sisters, but he knew nothing of Varys' plot. Depending on how everything ends, I might do something separate to reflect on what ended up happening at the end of all this. It's fluffy but after yesterday, bloody hell, I think some fluff might be in order. Anyway, happy reading everyone!

Chapter 3

The smell was awful.

Apparently, all the other cells were full, full of….

Well, the aftermath of the battle.

Sansa sat with her head against the damp stone wall, looking stubbornly outside through the tiny window above them, blocked by wet bars covered in moss and god knows what else.

She knew of course that Tyrion was glaring at her.

After the trial, they had been brought into this awful place, the door locked with the key hidden away, so there was no way of escape. They had been sitting in silence for a while now, but Sansa knew Tyrion was angry. She could hardly blame him. By this point, Sansa felt no point in trying to fight against accepting the inevitable. Unlike when they had sat in the crypts together, she knew no one was fighting for them up above this time.

It was over.

"Why?"

He was speaking through gritted teeth, and for a moment Sansa saw the shadow of a lion growling at her through the darkness.

"I thought I could save your life, if not mine," she said in response, her tone as cool as it had been in the Dragon Pit. "I had my suspicions before I arrived here. For once I am regretful that I had anticipated the truth of the matter."

"The truth of the matter?" repeated Tyrion hoarsely before standing up and walking towards her. It was dark in the cell, so it was hard to really make out his expression, but his silhouette cast a shadow across her face, blocking out what little light had been shining down on her.

"I always thought you to be rather clever, Lady Sansa, but not today."

Sansa looked up with expectation to hear one of his grand statements, but he merely scowled in frustration, refusing to look her in the eye, before turning away and slumping down on to the ground against the wall below the window.

"How did Daenerys know?"

Sansa blinked in surprise. Of all the questions, she had been expecting to hear, this was not one of the them.

"Can you really not work it out?"

Tyrion swerved his head towards her and let out a deep sigh of exhaustion.

"Please, dear Lady, enlighten me. You know your brother better than I do."

It was odd, but Sansa nearly laughed because his deep, sarcastic voice reminded her of the times he had attempted to make her laugh while she had been married to him, here in King's Landing. If only she had trusted him more then…

"She wasn't lying," said Sansa, shaking her head, the moment passing as she remembered the dire circumstance they now found themselves in. "Jon cannot tell a lie, not even if it's for a good reason. The fact of the matter is he loves her. I suspect she asked him in conversation, after the battle was over, and he told the truth. She wouldn't have asked him anymore than that, I believe Jon did not know fully what Varys was scheming. Perhaps she already knew anyway, had worked it out and merely needed the confirmation."

"She did," said Tyrion, his voice low and sour. "She knew exactly because Varys must have told her just before he died. She was placing you exactly where she wanted you to be."

Sansa looked down at her gloves. It was strangely a little hot here below the pit, damp and even a little humid. Taking off her gloves, Sansa adjusted her cloak and furs, which she had used to sit on, all the while not noticing that Tyrion had stood up again and was looking down at her with a grim expression on his face.

"If you had had your suspicions, then why in god's name did you come here!"

Sansa stilled her movements and let out an impatient huff before lifting her neck, once described as 'long' by the man now standing in front of her.

"For my brother," she said, her voice clear. "I came here for Jon, to support him. He is in danger here."

Tyrion continued to look down at her before blinking rapidly and nodding his head, a little too vigorously Sansa felt. She had never seen him like this before.

"I see," he replied but he did not move. "So, tell me, what good is it, if you are dead? What good are you to your brother, if you don't come out of this alive? What good is it for the North or this realm if your head ends up on a pike!"

"Jon is the Warden of the North!" retorted Sansa, her voice rising. She couldn't help it.

Tyrion closed his eyes and winced before continuing. Sansa noticed his hands were bunched up into fists, as if he had immeasurable anger surging through his veins and he didn't know where to put it.

"I told you your brother would be down here, most likely, from now on. The people in the North need you Sansa, you are indispensable, can't you grasp that!"

"Are you saying that you are not?" replied the Lady of Winterfell, finally standing up from her spot and taking a few steps towards Tyrion. "I did what I could to try and stop Daenerys from sentencing you, I came straight to the pits when I heard you were going to be put on trial because I knew I was the only one in that godforsaken place who would stand up for you!"

Her voice carried, echoing against the disgusting walls before travelling down the corridors. They both stood panting, their breath coming out in short bursts as they looked at one another. As the stubborn creatures they were, it seemed like they were almost challenging each other to see who would break the moment first.

Tyrion let his shoulders sag in defeat.

"You could have denied it," he said as he looked away. "You shouldn't have come here."

"If I didn't, I know Daenerys would see that as a threat and merely send men to eliminate me. We heard rumours, travelling down the King's Road. I would have only been prolonging the inevitable and I could not reject Jon's invitation. Bran encouraged me also."

"Nevertheless," sighed Tyrion as he sat down in resignation. "Out of the two of us, it is you the people in this realm rely on now for at least some form of sane leadership."

"Are you trying to say I am saner than you are?" replied Sansa. She couldn't stop a slight lilt slipping into her voice. Tyrion looked up at her and smirked, despite himself. She felt some small reassurance as she sat down again, opposite him. Perhaps even a little victory.

As she thought back on her words however, her smile disappeared.

"You do know I was lying," she said quietly as she stared at his posture, relaxed but strained at the same time, not wholly at peace. He was leaning back and looking at her through the slits of his gleaming eyes.

"What do you mean?" he uttered, his voice rustier than usual.

"When I said I used you," began Sansa, feeling embarrassed and a little irritated he did not immediately recognize what she was referring to. Either that, or he was teasing her. "When I said that, I thought she would be convinced and realize there was no malicious intent behind you telling Varys. It is true, I hoped by telling you it would help in some way, if the Dragon Queen did turn out to be what I suspected her of being. But I never meant…."

She looked up as she felt her voice catch and saw Tyrion was fully alert, looking straight at her with a grave expression on his face.

"I never meant for you to end up in here," whispered Sansa as she felt her breath becoming shallow. "I never meant to cause you harm, not when I left this awful place the first time and certainly not today-"

"Sansa," murmured Tyrion, getting up swiftly and kneeling down in front her, gently taking hold of her hands into his, so smoothly in fact that she had no time to respond to his actions. "I understand why you did that. My anger wasn't solely being directed towards you. I was frustrated in the Dragon Pit, because I immediately understood Daenerys' intent. It reminded me of my sister and…"

Sansa felt a little pressure and realized Tyrion was gripping hold of the palm of her hand, his thumb grazing her skin as he grimaced, obviously struggling to find the right words, which was odd, given the person in question.

"There was nothing we could have done," said Sansa simply, and she was reminded of the fact that she had said something similar to him in the crypts. "My only regret is putting you in danger by being reckless. I will do my best to salvage this situation somehow. There is still hope for you, I think."

Tyrion looked up in surprise, having been preoccupied with the joining of their hands, and blinked, yet again, at a loss for words.

"My Lady, I am afraid I must disappoint you then," he said finally, releasing her hand and giving her a genuine smile as he came beside her and sat down. "For I will do everything in my power to make sure you are the one to survive this."

Sansa gave Tyrion a weary smile as she turned to look at him, and finally, with his face in the light of the window, she could see him properly.

It pained her, genuinely, to see him like this. He had obviously been in the heat of the battle, if the bruises and cuts were anything to go by. It looked as if he had been through hell, but as he stared back at her, she saw he seemed to be at least getting some form of comfort by having someone to talk to.

She didn't know why she said what she said next, but say it she did.

"I'm sorry," said the Lady of Winterfell quietly, causing a confusing expression to come across Tyrion Lannister's face. "I'm sorry for everything that has happened to you. You don't deserve it."

"I don't know," said Tyrion abruptly in reply, sounding in denial as he creased his brow. "I think I deserved a fair bit of what I received. It turns out you were right about Daenerys. The only question is whether your actions will help us now or not."

"What do you mean?" asked Sansa, narrowing her eyes.

"Your brother," muttered Tyrion as he looked into the distance at something not visible. "He wasn't there. Almost like she didn't want him there, despite the fact that trial was clearly about him, not Cersei."

"Do you think he is in danger?" said Sansa in response, and now she felt nervous for the first time due by Tyrion's words.

"Possibly," replied her past husband. "We can only hope now."

Sansa could not help but cast her eyes down in disappointment.

"Sansa," said Tyrion gently, trying to get her to look at him once more. "She loves him, just as he loves her. Remember that that alone will protect him."

"I don't trust that," said Sansa in return, her voice cold and distant. "I've seen too much to trust anyone on that front. Daenerys is capable of anything, I sensed that and I was right."

Tyrion continued to stare at her in an oddly nebulous manner before standing up and walking slowly towards the window to peer out outside, pointless as it was to do so.

"You know, my sister and brother died together as the Red Keep came down," he said as he continued to face away from Sansa. "My sister… That is how I knew she wasn't a monster. My brother loved her, genuinely, and she loved her children. It was the only thing I was completely sure about when it came to my family."

Tyrion turned then and looked towards Sansa, a sad smile appearing on his face.

"Your brother loves you, all of you. He will protect you, I am sure of it, just as I am sure Daenerys loves him."

"What about you?"

She shouldn't have said it, she realized that too late, but the words were out of her mouth before she had time to contemplate. His family was gone, terrible as they were. But she had grown up since she had run away with Littlefinger. She knew the value now of family.

He had no one.

"Oh, don't worry about me," said Tyrion brazenly as he came back towards her but she saw something in his eyes, but she could not place what it was. She noticed too then that he seemed more than simply tired. He needed rest.

"You're tired," stated Sansa, as he sat down beside her again. "You haven't slept in days, I can tell."

"Well, given the circumstances, can you really blame me?" replied Tyrion as he struggled to keep his eyes open, an unconvincing smile still plastered to his face. "The guards refused to give me anything but water. Wine would have helped at least a bit."

"I remember that used to help us a lot at the beginning of our marriage," said Sansa, a smirk appearing of its own volition. "You were always kind to me and gentle, though you had no reason to be."

"I had a reason," whispered Tyrion as he continued to stare at her, his head cocked to the side, perhaps his languid state getting the better of him. "I wanted you to like me."

Sansa's eyes widened as she took in his words.

"I'm sorry," said Tyrion gruffly, turning away sharply and sitting up. "I didn't mean to scare you. I had hoped we could be friends then."

"I think we were, after a time," said Sansa softly as she watched him. "I hope we still are, despite everything that has happened."

"Despite everything?" said Tyrion, a laugh nearly coming on again as he repeated her, not for the first time during this conversation. "I think it is these terrible circumstances, and only under these terrible circumstances, that we have managed to come to an understanding of each other. I doubt you would have given me a second thought, if not for everything that happened."

Sansa felt some bitterness seep into her thoughts and her mind clouded over with a dark thought. Sad as it was, Tyrion was right. When she thought about how she was as a child, it was difficult, no, near impossible, to envisage a scenario where she would have looked beyond his exterior and his name.

"Your silence says it all," muttered Tyrion as he leant back against the wall. "Nevertheless, I am glad we were able to see each other again, right when the world was about to end. You were brave that night. Braver than me."

Sansa thought again of the look they had shared, and of Tyrion's drunken words about their marriage, words she did not know then quite how to interpret. If they were to die tomorrow, she wanted to know what he had meant.

"Did you mean it? What you said in the crypts that night?"

She felt her late husband shift as he looked towards her, straining his neck to see her properly, as if he thought he had misheard her somehow.

"About our marriage," uttered Sansa, hoping to bring some clarification but it seemed to only bring on signs of mortification as Tyrion stared back at her as if she had grown two horns on her head.

"You said you thought it might have been a good idea for us to stay married," continued Sansa, turning towards Tyrion in frustration as he remained silent.

"I was drunk," he uttered finally, but his eyes told a different story as they looked at her with hesitancy. He remembered everything and why he had said what he said.

Sansa refused to look away from him, but after a while she figured out the meaning behind his gaze and sat back.

"For what it's worth, I think you were right," she said, purposefully looking away this time. "I think we could have made something out of it. It is a shame we shall never get the chance."

The cell fell into a long silence and though Sansa did not mind it at first, she had anticipated this after all, it did begin to irk her that Tyrion remained silent for so long.

She lost her patience after a moment and turned, preparing to give some curt remark but upon meeting her gaze with his, her voice died in her throat.

"You deserved so much more than that," said Tyrion, his voice dangerously low, obviously choosing his words carefully. He looked almost angry, but finally Sansa understood what that dark gaze meant, what the bitterness was.

Self-loathing.

"You deserved everything you ever wished for as a girl," continued Tyrion, his tone unwavering. "You deserve to be loved, protected but not shielded. For all my fancy words, I could not do the one thing I swore I would do. I was meant to protect you, and I failed."

"You never failed me," whispered Sansa in turn, shaking her head in disagreement as she came closer towards him. "You saved me, more times than I can count while I was here, helpless and clueless as I was on how to survive. Many a time, you helped me-"

"That is a given Sansa, not something you must wish for," said Tyrion gruffly but this time Sansa refused to let him turn away and she grabbed hold of his hand. He immediately stiffened and turned to look down at her hand encapsulating his.

"You deserved more than this," repeated Tyrion, but his gaze lingered on their intertwined hands, one rough, the other smooth. "I should have taken you far away from here when I had the chance. If I had, I would never have met Daenerys. Perhaps none of this would have happened."

Sansa looked with sorrow as he cast his head down in defeat. Soon, however, she felt something else take over.

"We will find a way Tyrion," said Sansa, and she heard the grit in her voice. For once, she thought she could convince herself of something she could not foresee happening but held hope anyway. "I don't know how, but somehow we will get out of this. Together."

When the last of Lannisters still sat with his head bowed, Sansa tried again.

"Tyrion, look at me."

Sansa was surprised when he finally lifted his head and looked into her eyes, as if he were trying to find something he had been searching for his entire life. His eyes were glistening, but he was doing his best to not fall apart in front of her. They had lost everything, but as always in dire circumstances, they had each other. Once upon a time, it had been he who had always comforted her. It only made sense for her to do the same for him now.

"No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, I will be by your side. No matter what."

Uttering her last few words, Sansa grabbed hold of Tyrion's cold hands again and found herself trying to not break also. All this uncertainty would surely kill them, but at this moment, Sansa could not think of anyone else, aside from her family, she would rather be trapped in this cell with.

Leaning forward, she pressed her head against his without thinking, trying to find some form of comfort. It was an odd gesture, but somehow it felt right to Sansa in that moment, and it must have felt right for Tyrion also, for they fell into silence once more, but it was a comforting silence, like something they had created, a moment of peace, separate from the world.

Once it passed, Sansa lifted her head, taking a deep breath as she realized there had been silent tears running down her face.

Tyrion, unsurprisingly, noticed immediately, and proceeded to lift his hand to wipe them away from her beautiful cheeks, an odd smile playing on his lips as he did so.

Sansa did not know how she must have looked, but something changed as Tyrion moved his thumb slowly beneath her eyes. As if he had broken out of the moment, he quickly snatched his hand away and sat back down, staring emptily at the ground, almost in confusion.

"You're tired," said Sansa, not wanting to think too much of it. "You should sleep."

Tyrion swivelled his head and looked up to glare at her, as if this were a terrible idea, but Sansa merely lifted her eyebrows in response.

"Trust me Tyrion, there's nothing better you can do now."

"I don't think that is exactly true," scoffed Tyrion, and Sansa was glad but also disappointed oddly that he was back to his usual self. "I find you enormously entertaining."

Yet the lion could not stop himself from yawning, and as he cast Sansa a weary look, realized he could not talk himself out of going against her wishes.

"Very well," he sighed, turning on to his back, "as my wife commands."

Sansa stopped him, just as Tyrion was to lay down on the wet stony ground, wordlessly grabbing hold of his shoulders and shifting herself over so he was on her lap. His eyes widened in alarm.

"Sansa, what are you-"

"It's the least I can do," said the Lady of Winterfell flatly, even as she felt her cheeks warm, Tyrion's touch there still lingering. "I need you to help us get out of this mess, but you won't be much help if your brain is too tired to think. Sleep."

Tyrion continued to stare at her incredulously, and Sansa nearly regretted her decision, but then his eyes turned kind and he gave her a warm smile before closing his eyes.

"As my wife commands," he muttered before drifting off to sleep, and Sansa could not help but smile, despite knowing their lives were both likely coming to an end.


	4. Chapter 4

Helllllo lovely readers!

So... I am really happy so many people read this story! Thank you so much for your reviews and support!

The reason I have not updated, is because I have been thinking of how I want to continue with this, and I have found that really to do these two characters justice, I need to step back and start from scratch a new story in response to how the finale of this series turned out. Rest assured, something will be coming, but I wanted to post this here because the last thing I want to do is disappoint after receiving so many follows for this story. When I have set up something good and solid, I will post again, so please do keep looking at my account for further details on what is to come.

I started this in response to some asks on tumblr, but now I will be doing something more my own and, yes, set after the finale and therefore canon as far as backstory is concerned.

Thank you so much for following this, and I hope you will be here to read further stories about these two wonderful characters, Tyrion and Sansa. The future is bright for them!


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